Off Chance

by Sawyer Bennett

  Rowan actually grimaces over that statement but then turns and heads to the kitchen. I follow her in and lean against the counter while she pulls out all the stuff to make us some sandwiches.

  Her back is to me and she silently works on making us lunch. I don't press her for information, taking my time enjoying the view of her backside. It's just as lovely as the front.

  "How do you know?" she asks as she turns to me.

  I manage to sling my gaze up from her ass to her eyes and I don't think she caught me checking her out. "How do I know what?"

  "That I'm a good woman. You said that to whoever you were talking to. I mean... you've known me for a day. How do you know I'm a good woman?"

  For a split second, I feel like I'm caught in the glare of a spotlight, and I've just been asked the million-dollar question. My mind blanks, and outside of knowing for certain that her tits are exquisite and her ass is slammin', nothing is coming to mind.

  But then I focus on those gray eyes of her, watching me carefully, and it all comes to me in a rush. "I know for lots of reasons. You're brave enough to try to leave a guy that's so demented he kidnapped you. You have pride... a little bit stubborn, but respectable all the same. You don't like handouts and you have a hard work ethic. You like to earn your keep. You're distrustful, for sure, but I'm thinking that's just to protect your heart, which I'm guessing has been bruised. But that means you have a heart. I know you're a good woman because of that damned dog in there. He saved your life as much as I did and that means you inspired love and loyalty in him. That means you have a soft touch and the heart you have is warm and caring. You don't like to see people get hurt. You were worried for me today at Amy's. You wanted to move on after you realized Juice was looking for you, and that was so that I wouldn't get caught up in this. There are so many reasons, but more than anything, Rowan... I just know. It's an instinct, and I'm going to trust it."

  She just stares at me, those gray irises wide and unblinking. Then I see her lower lip start to tremble ever so slightly and a veil of tears forms in her eyes. Her voice quavers but she smiles when she says, "Boy... you sure do see a lot."

  "I see you," I tell her simply.

  Taking a deep breath, she blinks her eyes rapidly and the tears disappear. She turns her back on me and goes back to making the sandwiches. Maybe it's because we aren't making eye contact, but she feels brave enough to share with me, "Thank you, Flynn. No one has ever said nice things like that about me."

  Picking up the plates from the counter, she walks to the kitchen table and I follow her. As we sit down, I tease her, "I find it hard to believe no one has ever said nice things to you. Not a hottie like yourself."

  It cracks me up that Rowan actually blushes over that remark. I never would have pegged her for someone that would get embarrassed.

  She picks her sandwich up and takes a bite. After she swallows, she says, "Sure... I mean, guys are always saying nice things... I mean, it's what you do when you want in a girl's pants, right?"

  I snicker, because that is exactly what we do.

  "But not you, Flynn... you meant those things you said. I heard the truth in your voice. And you said it, expecting nothing in return from me. You think I'm a good woman, and I'm not so sure about that. But I know you're a good man. Like you... I just know."

  I'm stunned for a moment, because her words touch me, and that doesn't happen often. She stares at me, and I return it, both of us silent... both of us thinking over the things we just said to each other. It's a definitive turning point in our relationship and by the look on Rowan's face, I'm not sure she's ever opened up to anyone like that before. She looks slightly stunned and a little fearful for allowing herself a moment of vulnerability.

  I decide to lighten the mood, so she won't have the opportunity to close herself away from me. "Yeah, well, who says I don't want in your pants?"

  I try to keep a serious face and she blinks at me, trying to comprehend what I just said. Then I break out into a huge grin and shoot her a wink.

  A smile slowly comes to her own face and then a devilish gleam sparkles in her eyes. "Who says I won't let you get there?"

  My life is whacked.

  When my family turned their back on me five years ago, I created a new life. I was scared shitless, but I did it anyway. I moved to a new city, and became a new person.

  I don't always like the new me. I've had to sacrifice some qualities along the way. You'll never get sweetness from me. I won't cater to your feelings. I call things the way I see them and there's no rosy tint on my glasses. My laughs don't come easy, and when they do, there is always an underlying hint of skepticism in my humor.

  With all of that being said, something has happened in just three days that has made my life even wackier. I think I've met someone that doesn't have a single ulterior motive for being in my life. Up until now, everyone wanted something from me, and I never got anything without first giving up a piece of myself.

  Until Flynn.

  Life as Flynn's roommate has been great, even though I know this is only temporary. He has made Capone and me feel completely at home, and the more time I spend with him, the more I find myself loosening up. He is funny, gracious, and self-deprecating. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body that I've been able to see, and he's done nothing but treat me with kindness and respect. I even came in the door the other day after running down to the grocery, and found Capone curled up on the couch with Flynn. This, despite the fact he calls Capone "the flea-bag" all the time.

  I've gone five years without a real friend. In just three short days, I can no longer claim that accomplishment on my resume. I've met a man so multi-dimensional, that he makes my head spin trying to keep up with all of his great qualities.

  When Flynn told me why he thought I was a good woman, it's like he was bathed in an almost holy light. I not only saw it in his eyes, but I heard it in his voice. He was being genuine with me, and that is something that has been sorely lacking from my life. You would think someone that had never experienced genuineness before would not understand it when faced with the same. But just the opposite occurred. The first time I saw it... a true, genuine soul... I recognized it immediately because it made the rest of the world around me seem dull and lifeless.

  So why am I not jumping up and down with joy over my newfound friend?

  Well, because while Flynn has all of these wonderful qualities that put him squarely in the category of "friend", he has additional qualities that, unfortunately, make me look at him in a different light.

  Yes, I'm talking about the fact that the guy has some serious sex appeal. There is no hiding the fact he's stunningly gorgeous--a fact I've only thought about every time I'm in the same room with him. He also has flirting with me down to a science, and every time he makes a cheeky comment that is laced with innuendo, my heart starts a mad thumping. If I catch a glimpse of his bare skin, like yesterday when he walked out of the bathroom after his shower with nothing but a towel slung around his narrow hips, I start thinking the dirtiest of thoughts. A vivid fantasy of him slamming me up against the wall and capturing my lips in a scorching kiss flashed through my brain and made me blush like a little school girl.

  Sadly enough, but completely true, Flynn Caldwell's mere presence has the ability to make me feel like a horny teenager. Sometimes he'll look at me, those hazel eyes will get warm, he'll quirk those sexy-as-hell lips, and it makes me want to just climb on top and rub myself against him. It's unsettling, the powerful pull I'm feeling, and we've never even done anything more than just some casual flirting.

  Last night, I went to sleep thinking of Flynn and all the kind things he has done for Capone and me. Sometime in the early morning hours, I had a dream about him. I don't remember the full details, but I know he had my naked body pressed down into the mattress of my bed and he was worshiping me with just his lips. There were no other details in the dream. Just Flynn, the mattress, and me... and soon the mattress faded away from my thoughts. Then it was ju
st Flynn and what he was doing to me.

  In my dream, he never touched my breasts or between my legs. But he paid exquisite care to every other part of my body. The longer he touched me, the more skin that his lips grazed, the more I felt the pressure building inside of me.

  And with just a light kiss behind my knee, I had an orgasm so powerful that I came out of my sleep, sitting straight up in bed while spasms rocketed through my body. When I came fully awake and understood what happened, my body was drenched in sweat and my chest was heaving. Poor Capone was standing at the foot of my bed, watching me with curiosity. My covers were kicked to the floor and I can only imagine what I must have been doing in my sleep. I could only hope that I had not been making any sounds that Flynn could hear.

  I sat there in my bed until my heart rate returned to normal and my breathing became steady. Knowing there was no going back to sleep after that dream, I decided to jump in the shower before Flynn got up.

  I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. After wiping the steam from the mirror, I lean in close and take a good look at my face. The dark circles that seemed to have been ingrained into the skin beneath my eyes have finally disappeared. That's merely a testament to the good food and sleep I've had the past three nights that I've been here.

  All thanks to my new friend, Flynn Caldwell.

  Perhaps, my first true friend.

  You know... the one that gives me orgasms in my dreams.

  Some who know me would say, And why is this really a problem, Rowan? Geez... jump on that shit!

  I'll tell you why it's a problem.

  I don't want to lose Flynn Caldwell as my friend.

  Because no matter how unbelievably sexy Flynn is... no matter how great I know he would be in bed... everything will change between us if sex is involved.

  I just know it.

  Up until this point in my life, sex has been a tool for me. It's been a stress reliever, and sometimes I've used it to get what I want. It was always so easy to manipulate Juice early on in our relationship with sex. I could diffuse his anger toward me with just a look, and even now, I'm a little ashamed I would resort to such tactics.

  But with Flynn?

  Sex with him will be something entirely different. It will open up a new level of intimacy that I don't think my cynicism will be able to handle. He has the ability to undo the entire basis of my existence for the past five years, and I don't think I'm ready to let go of the safety net that my walls provide me.

  I search my own eyes in the bathroom mirror. They look back at me and tell me I'm a fool for thinking such things. They taunt me with the knowledge that a friendship with Flynn will never be as ultimately satisfying as a love affair with him.

  I close my eyes and tell myself to shut the fuck up.

  I say a tiny prayer of thanks that Flynn Caldwell is my friend and that he was brought into my life.

  I need to be content with friendship and leave it at that.

  Walking into the kitchen, I try to mentally prepare myself for how to deal with Flynn today. I tell myself I will not engage in flirting and that I will find a way to strengthen the new friendship that we have.

  Now that I have a taste of what it feels like, I want to cultivate it further.

  Without annoying, sexy thoughts getting in my way.

  Flynn is leaning back against the counter, drinking a glass of water. He's dressed in a pair of shorts, a gray t-shirt that is soaked with sweat, and running shoes. His face glistens with moisture and his hair is sticking up in a thousand different directions.

  I try not to notice the way his bicep bulges when his arm curls upward to bring the glass to his lips.

  Or the way his lips rest softly against the glass.

  Or the way his throat moves as he swallows.

  I have to restrain myself from walking to the refrigerator and slamming my forehead into it so these thoughts will go away. Instead, I walk to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup.

  "You're up early," he observes.

  I pull the milk out and add a splash to my cup. "So are you. Already went for a run?"

  "Yeah. I had strange dreams last night and just couldn't get into a good sleep."

  "You and me both," I mutter.

  "Mine were crazy... I was at a party with Eminem and Prince Charles and they were arguing over how to make the chicken potpie that we were eating. That was the one that woke me up." He flashes me a dimpled smile. "What were yours about?"

  I almost choke on the coffee I'm drinking but I'm able to force the hot liquid down the right pipe. "I don't remember. I'm sure nothing important."

  Finishing off his water, he lays the glass in the sink. "I'll take Capone out for you before I hop into the shower."

  Oh, God. Thoughts of him in the shower cause my mind to burst with color for just a moment, but then I shake myself back to reality. "No need. I took him out and fed him before I had my shower."

  His eyebrows rise. "Wow. You were up really early. Must have been some dream."

  If only he knew.

  "So, what are your plans on your last day before heading back to work? I'll finish up your laundry for you."

  "Rowan," Flynn says, his tone only slightly chiding. "You don't have to do my laundry."

  The old Rowan... the one who, just three days ago, would have torn into Flynn for that, doesn't make an appearance. The new Rowan... the one that wants to build this friendship with Flynn, handles it just a bit differently.

  "Yes, I do." I smile at him but my tone is firm. "You promised you'd let me earn my keep until I could get a job."

  Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, "Fine. Have at it. Just don't starch my underwear."

  I snicker. That would be a good prank to play on him, and that makes me snicker even more, because the old Rowan didn't pull pranks or joke around.

  "What's so funny?"

  Shaking my head and trying to wipe the smile from my face, I take another sip of coffee. "Nothing. But no starch in the underwear, I promise."

  Flynn shrugs his shoulders and pushes away from the counter. He walks up to me and stands very close... just staring down. My breath hitches and I fight hard to hold his gaze. He does nothing more than raise a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and the light touch of his fingertips on my skin almost causes me to convulse.

  I take a quick step back, enough to put room between his overwhelming closeness. His hand drops and he also takes a step back, looking embarrassed. I'm equally hot in the face, because that wasn't casual flirting. That was a moment of tenderness that scares the crap out of me and makes me yearn at the same time.

  Clearing his throat, he says, "Actually... I was thinking about going to the movies today. Are you interested?"

  I mentally calculate the money I have left. After buying clothes, a cell phone, some toiletries and groceries that Flynn chewed me out for buying, I have $283.00 left to my name. I put in applications to a few of the businesses around Flynn's apartment, but no one has invited me to an interview yet. I need to take care of the few bucks I have left and I need to find a way to earn money so I can pay my own way.

  "I don't think so. But thanks."

  Flynn studies me for a second. "If it's about the money, I'll pay."

  I shoot him an exasperated look and walk into the living room. Capone is curled up on the couch, snoozing hard. "Don't go there, Flynn. You've done too much for me already."

  "Come on, Rowan. It's just a movie... and maybe some popcorn."

  "No, thanks," I say firmly. "Besides... I do have to run an errand today."

  I head down the hallway, walking into Flynn's room. The second day here, I cleaned his room from top to bottom, and he has amazingly kept it clean since then. I open his closet and grab his clothes hamper.

  When I turn, Flynn is right there and grabs the hamper from me. "Need a ride for your errand?"

  He walks out of his room and heads back to the kitchen, setting the basket down in front of the stacked washer/dryer unit that
takes up the majority of his pantry.

  "Thanks," I mumble in appreciation for carrying the hamper for me. Although, it sort of defeats the purpose of me earning my keep. "But I don't need a ride. I can take the train."

  "Okay," he says, but I can tell he's disappointed. "Where are you going?"

  I hesitate, because I know Flynn won't like where I'm going. The old Rowan would have come up with a lie. It would have flown from my lips without a second thought and without a trace of guilt. But I can tell my friendship with Flynn is important because I don't want to lie to him.

  I start sorting through his laundry, throwing the whites in the washer. "I'm actually going to get some money that's owed to me... at the bar where I used to work. They owe me a paycheck."

  One of the things I like best about Flynn is that he doesn't get mad, or angry, or loud... especially when he has reason to. He merely raises his eyebrows at me and says, "Are you sure that's a good idea? Juice could be waiting for you."

  His calm reasoning helps. It's something I've thought about a lot and it's what has put me off from heading to Zeke's before now. But Zeke owes me about three hundred bucks and that could go a long way toward paying some expenses to Flynn.

  "I know," I answer. "But I need that money. I figure if I go early in the day, chances of Juice being there are slim. He's like a vampire...loves the night too much."

  "Well, I'll come with you--just in case."

  "Absolutely not," I tell him emphatically.

  Flynn turns away and heads back toward the bathroom, no doubt to take a shower. "Try to stop me," he says over his shoulder. "And if you try to leave out of here while I'm in the shower, you won't like it once I catch up to you." His tone is firm, slightly menacing, and the alpha nature is a little hot.

  Okay... a lot hot!

  I open my mouth to yell out a retort but I hear the bathroom door shut and realize it would be useless.

  Flynn will be in the bathroom for only about ten minutes. He always showers fast and doesn't shave on his days off.

  Weird... the things I'm coming to know about him.

  I glance at the clock that hangs on the kitchen wall, calculating if I can get down to the train station before Flynn catches up to me.

  Probably not.